The Control of the Bed
by Mia Jones
Summary: Alex Krycek pleases the Consortium. As a reward, they send him Marita Covarrubias. Although there's a strong sexual attraction, Alex tries to refuse her. She's a tempting distraction, but a Consortium tool. Watch how they lose their cold control in bed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-files characters or situations. I am not making any money from this. The X-files belongs to Chris Carter and Fox.

Please read and REVIEW! It's so encouraging.

Alex Krycek opened his eyes in a strange bed. The sheets were smooth and unwrinkled. He felt cool and weightless, but he could not recognize the smooth plastered ceiling. His mind was as blank as the sheets which wrapped around him. He closed his eyes and forgot the worry as he hovered back into a gentle sleep.

A soft shuffling noise made Alex's eyes flutter awake again. He couldn't move too inspect the sound as he found his body felt stiff and corpse-like. It was a comforting sound, like wet feet on carpet. He tilted his head up as high as he could manage. Every joint, bone, and muscle in his body ached.

There was a woman in the room. At first her skin confused him. It had been sometime since he had seen such beautiful coppery skin. Water dripped from her between her fingers as she wrung her hair dry. The drops trickled between the cleft of her soft ass.

Alex had no idea why he was in a room with a naked woman; a woman whose entire body seemed to be composed of long, colt-like legs. She had small, but pert breasts. Her nipples stood erect in the enjoyable chill of the room. He tried to sink further into the sheets of the bed. She showed no sign of knowing he was there.

In the mirror, above the bureau, Alex saw himself and the woman. His half-hidden, stubble-covered-mug looked bruised and heavy next to her splendid creamy hip which curved like the swish of an's'. Though her back was mostly turned to him, the mirror revealed that she was smiling as if thinking of a pleasant moment to come. She searched through the top drawer of the bureau and pulled out a pair of panties. She held the lace and ribbon to her belly before stepping into the garment. The white ribbon divided her ass in such perfect symmetry that it looked almost innocent. But the tiny piece of white lace that barely covered the soft, hairless folds of her pussy drove Alex to a frenzied arousal. He whispered a disbelieving curse that sounded more like a groan of pleasure. His cock was engorged.

The woman tucked a short piece of drying hair behind her ear and smiled at him in the mirror. Alex's face looked blood red set against the crisp sheets. She rested her hands on her hips and turned to face him.

"Feeling better?"

Her supple lips distracted him, as he could not stop himself from thinking how they would look wrapped around his pulsing cock. He did not answer her.

"You've been passed out for almost a day now."

Alex could still not speak. He tried to sneak his hand beneath the sheets in order to wrestle his erect cock lower so it did not make such a tall and obvious tent. She smiled like a vicious cat. She made no move to cover her body.

"What is going on?" Alex finally croaked. His voice felt heavy and uneven. She smirked again. He decided that although she was beautiful, he liked her better when she thought he wasn't watching her. She crawled into bed and stretched out onto the pillow next to his face. She hugged it to her pretty breasts and the gentle curve of her belly.

"You've made the Consortium very happy."

"I don't even remember what I did."

This made Marita burst into harsh, forced laughter. She reached out and rasped her fingers against his rough cheek.

"You figured it out."

And it all came rushing back to him. The battle with the alien in the laboratory. It had gestated much earlier than anyone had expected. Guarding the lab and encouraging the scientists (in more brutal ways than he cared to remember) had been his first major assignment for the Consortium. He had helped with the lab work whenever he could as long as the Russian scientists and officers were behaving themselves. But the alien, birthed from a host infected with the black oil, grew far too quickly within the gut of an unfortunate prisoner. It had burst out in the middle of the night, when almost everyone at the lab station was asleep. The creature mindlessly attacked. It ripped men in half with one massive sweep of its clawed hands.

Three days passed with no luck in cornering the thing. Blood covered the lab like a poorly applied coat of paint. Finally, on the last day, the alien ripped into a soldier in front of Alex. They had been barricading themselves in the control room, radioing for help. But when the alien forced down the steel door, it flew into a rage on the young Russian soldier. The way the creature's long fingers made a smooth uppercut through the man's torso flung pieces of intestines at Alex's face.

It was enough to send him into a rage. With only his knife in hand (they had realized in the previous days that bullets were completely ineffective) he wrestled the alien to the floor. The thing swiped at him, but Alex stayed so close that it was difficult for it to take a good rip at him. Alex stabbed blindly. The green, acidic blood burned against his skin and made him choke and gag. But out of some blind luck, amidst their struggle, he stabbed the thing in the back of the neck. It quivered and died. Alex had passed soon after the alien stopped twitching. Without adrenaline from the fight, his injured body could no longer sustain consciousness.

And then he found himself in this beautiful woman's bed.

"You've been in a hospital for weeks. But when they realized that you would be regaining consciousness soon, they sent you home with me."

"And who are you," Alex said. He licked his parched lips.

"Marita Covarrubias."

"Why did they send me with you?" he asked in a way he hoped didn't sound too ungrateful. Her breasts were practically pressed against his face. Strong vibrations of pleasure lingered around his loins. Marita hesitated, as if searching for the best words.

"Because the Consortium is grateful," she said with a serious emphasis on every word. "You found the aliens' Achilles heel. Now we know we can kill them at the base of the neck."

"Oh." It was the only thing Alex could think to say. He pondered what she meant by "grateful," although he could guess.

"They're so happy with you right now," she said as she leaned even closer. One of her long legs lobbed across his body so it rubbed against his engorged cock. She rubbed her legs against him through the sheet.

"So what are you?"

"I'm yours."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm your gift from the Consortium." She traced her hand across the hard planes of his muscular chest. Alex would have liked to hold her in his arms, but the pains in his body stopped him. Something else stopped him as well.

"I'm really tired."

Marita frowned and stopped grinding her pelvis and its lacy accoutrement against his body. But the smile returned. She laid her head down onto his chest.

"The offer stays open."

"I'm sure it does," Alex muttered into her hair. He ached to hold her and fuck her hard. But he had to remind himself, that she was a tool of the Consortium. He could not allow her to control him, even if that control were the kind of bed pleasures he could only imagine.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A week later, Alex was well enough to return to the Consortium's headquarters. He reported to the members about his ordeal and his discovery. They had the entire incident on tape, but they questioned him thoroughly about the exact placement of the knife.

He suggested that they continue these experiments in the other global labs, but to focus on pinpointing the exact location of the aliens' weakness. Alex also suggested that they use a smaller and more direct weapon, like a stiletto, to minimize the wound size and the consequent toxic spray of alien blood. The old men, wearing their pin-stripe suits and smoking their odorous cigars, looked like proud grandfathers. Marita was in the briefing room as well. She watched him from her seat in the corner with a cool visage that made him shiver and stutter if he looked at her for too long. Spender seemed to notice his difficulties. The old man smiled as he took short, kiss-like drags on his cigarette. His hard eyes shifted between Alex and Marita.

The whole event made Alex shaky with nerves, but his training allowed him to present an entirely different character: fearless, ambitious, and loyal. Most days he lived as someone else anyway. It was the life of a spy and the life of a consortium member. He rarely felt very enthusiastic for the Consortium projects, but he felt an obligation to prevent colonization. It was too great a responsibility to ignore.

Perhaps only Marita and Spender recognized his act because they were the only ones to have seen him in his true state. Spender had known him since he was a child and was the one responsible for his training. Alex knew Marita's little smirks in the back of the room were probably due to her recognition of his confidence act. She had seen him at his most vulnerable in her bedroom. He suspected it wouldn't be the last time she would see his guard come down.

After the meeting ended, Marita told Alex that she had some paperwork of his in her office. He followed her clacking heels down the marble-tiled hallway. She opened a file cabinet drawer, shook her head and shoved it back. Alex stood in the doorframe; unwilling to enter further into her office. She bent over to open a lower drawer and rustled through the files. Her skirt rode up the back of her legs so Alex could see almost all of the back of her thighs. He had to look away from all that supple, warm skin. He scowled and tried to look bitter.

"Here's another benefit," she said as she brought the file over to him. Alex reached for the manila folder, but Marita snatched it away and held it behind her back. "Come with me."

"What is it?" Alex asked as he chased after her once again, hating and loving every minute of it.

"You're immigration status," Marita said in a clipped, business as usual voice. She walked down the hall and punched the button to the elevator. It dinged open. They stepped inside. "Technically, you're still an illegal Soviet immigrant." The doors of the elevator shut slowly. Marita hit the button for the first floor. Her office was on the 33rd.

"That wasn't my decision, Spender took me when I was a kid."

"I know. The UN normally doesn't get involved with immigration issues, not our department."

"You work for the UN?"

Marita nodded. She tapped a corner of the folder against her lips. She didn't wear lipstick and Alex liked that.

"Your immigration was so unusual…"

"Illegal you mean."

"…That there's no proper channel to fix it now. It's been too many years."

"About twenty," Alex snorted

"So the UN will grant you diplomatic immunity."

"Then those problems are solved?"

"I suspect you should be a little less worried doing domestic work now. Just another benefit the Consortium is willing to offer now."

Alex didn't want to respond to this. Anything he said would be twisted into an invitation. He didn't want his balls held in her hands; no matter how soft and pretty they appeared. Marita watched him from the corner of her eye. She must have seen the look of struggle and frustration on his face. She smiled for no apparent reason. Alex watched her suspiciously. They were only on the 17th floor. The elevator was ancient and groaned slowly down its cable.

The folder dropped to the floor at Alex's feet. Marita bent down to pick it up. As she stood, her face paused momentarily at his crotch. In a quick and secretive move, she dragged her lips gently up along the zipper of his pants. Alex's first reaction was to grab her head and force her down harder onto his cock, but his second reaction was the opposite. While his mind battled over the best option, Marita's bottom lip caught against the tip of his cock. Alex gasped and cradled her head closer. Marita gave the bulging tip a kiss, then stood up straight again. Alex watched her in disbelief. She was so bold that he hated her for it. He glared at her.

Marita looked a little shaken when she saw his face. She seemed unsure of her best move and wavered between leaning closer to kiss his lips and giving him space. She handed him the folder, which he took without a word, and seemed to decide on the latter option. They were silent for the rest of the ride.

Alex stepped off at the first floor. He wanted to walk away without glancing back, but he couldn't help himself. She looked sad and pitiful as the elevators closed. Her blue eyes were opened so round, her mouth was slightly parted. Alex wanted very badly to rush back inside that elevator and fuck her the whole thirty-three floors up, but that would just put him right back into the pocket of the Consortium. An elite group that taped your lab's disaster without ever bothering to send help until most of the witnesses had been eliminated anyway.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alex saw Marita at work over the next week several times. He was assigned new projects that required more strategic thinking on an international scale. Of course, Marita was one of the Consortium's experts on international relations. So as he planted a key network of spies along most of the former Soviet Satellite states and in the northern desert regions of Africa, Marita helped speak to the right people and give the right bribes.

She was a daily irritation. No longer did she so overtly throw herself at him. Mostly, she blushed when he was around. For his part, he kept their relationship strictly professional. Although, it was hard to concentrate when her vanilla perfume tingled on his skin or when he caught glimpses of her smooth breasts down her shirt. He grew to love the way she tucked her hair behind her ears as a nervous habit.

But on the Monday of the second week of his return, Marita knocked on the door of Alex's office. He called for her to come in. Spread over his desk was a large map of the Krasnoyarsk province of Russia. He was searching for the most easily defended setting for a new laboratory which would focus on the black oil vaccine.

"Did you need something?" he asked her, barely looking up from the beige colored map. In general, he tried to look at her as little as possible. She shifted from one high heel to the other and nibbled on her well-manicured thumbnail.

"Marita?" he asked again, this time he watched her more carefully. She stared at her feet. With a deep breath, she looked him in the eyes. The corners of her eyes twitched.

"Alex, I hope you know that I've been assigned to fuck you." Her face flushed deep red. Her hands shook.

Alex went back to studying the map. He refused to look at her.

"I'm getting in trouble over this," she continued.

Still he remained silent. He traced his finger along the course of a river to the ocean, and then retraced its path again and again.

"It's not my idea. It's just supposed to fun for you."

"Oh," he said in his most non-committal voice. Marita sighed in frustration and stamped over beside him.

"Why don't you want me?" she asked in a wavering tone. Her skin was blotchy red to the roots of her hair. Alex's breathing grew much heavier. His body turned to face her although he still couldn't look her in the eye. She leaned closer.

Finally, she took a step in between him and the desk. She rested the trembling palms of her hands on the map, planted her legs apart, and thrust her ass against his crotch. Alex hesitated then grabbed her hips and thrust himself against her without control. His hands roamed up and squeezed her breasts as he humped against her. The desk thumped against the floor.

"I want you so bad," he said in a deep, strained voice.

"Then just take me."

"I can't." He smacked her ass, grabbed it again, mauled her, kissed her neck.

"Why not?" Marita whimpered as he fumbled to find her clit. When he felt the reassuring button, nestled away between the softest part of her legs, he gave it a vicious pinch.

He flipped her around and pressed her back down onto the desk as he nestled himself between her legs and kissed her breasts. He attacked her lips and left them bruised and puffy.

"They're using you to hold me down."

"Forget about them."

"You're a…" but Alex couldn't continue. He fumbled with his belt and yanked the zipper of his pants down. Marita raised her legs so they rested on his shoulders. She wore no underwear. Alex took two fingers and thrust them inside her. She was sticky wet. He stifled a moan and thrust into her with little warning. She screamed before he could cover her mouth with his sweating hand.

He slammed into her so hard that it was difficult to keep from coming right away. It felt like he was trying to hold back a bursting dam. But when her own pussy began to squeeze him from inside, he couldn't stop himself from collapsing onto her breasts and cursing at his own pleasure against the moist skin of Marita's neck.

When Alex could finally breathe again, he looked up at Marita from the comforting pillow of her breasts. Her breathing was already slow and even, which worried Alex that he may have passed out for a moment on top of her after his orgasm. Her smile was painfully smug. Alex blew out a hard sigh and pushed himself off of her.

"You're just here to distract me."

"Bingo, lover boy," she said in a sarcastic, cold voice. Alex wondered if he had imagined the previous week of timid blushes and weak smiles. She could switch so easily that it frightened him. And it scared him how easily he had eventually fallen for her. But he would never be able to deny himself of her now. It was best to play her game and win it by her rules. He would get the pleasure of the bed and the control. He could not allow her that.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the X-files characters or situations. I am not making any money from this. The X-files belongs to Chris Carter and Fox.

Read and review! I get so sad when there are no reviews. sniff

Their first spontaneous coupling was also their last. They fucked many times afterwards, but it became a scheduled affair rather than impulsive.

"The little bitch," Alex thought to himself after finding Marita's personal card on his desk. Her name was spelled in gothic letters and her apartment address was written below. On the back of the stiff paper there was a scribbled note that said "11:00 pm Friday." It had been scribbled with a blue ink fountain pen.

Alex pondered the note while he used it to pick between his teeth. It seemed that he would be her 11:00 date. He wondered who she spent the evening with at an earlier and more decent hour. Alex tried to convince himself he didn't care, but pride nibbled at him. He hated being anyone's second choice, or worse, the choice they were ashamed of. But he had already made the decision to sleep with her, since the incident on the desk. He would make the best of it.

On Friday night, at 10:30, Alex waited in the shadows of the alley across the street from Marita's building. She had a doorman. Conversely, Alex lived in Hell's Kitchen and didn't have a bed frame for the mattress he slept on.

When the doorman came forward to open the door of a taxi that had just stopped, Alex leaned back further into the dark, but strained his eyes harder to see exactly what kind of woman Marita was. He figured you could tell a lot about a person by the company they keep.

Marita stepped out of the car on the doorman's side. She smoothed her skirt and touched the handbag dangling off her arm to make sure it was still there and not inside the cab. Alex couldn't see the man inside the taxi very well. The man and Marita spoke to each other through the open door, but the man didn't bother to get out. There was no goodbye kiss.

Alex waited until 11:05 before he knocked on Marita's door. He felt shifty and restless. And something felt horribly dirty and wrong about the situation, but when Marita answered the door wearing a black laced corset with a matching thong, Alex forgot his doubts. He made a stupid sound of surprise and silently cursed at himself for sounding so childish. Marita smirked.

"Come inside before someone sees me," she teased. The aggressive tone shifted something in Alex. It made him angry. His vision went a little blurry. He made a decision.

One step brought him through the door. Without hesitation, he pushed her back with a straight arm. She stumbled and then coughed to cover her surprise. Alex kept a cool, steady look and kept marching forward; pushing her back again and again towards the bedroom.

"Would you watch it!" Marita yelled as she tried to swat his hand away, but Alex didn't give way at all.

"Well, you got me in the mood for a little S&D with that outfit." He shoved her again, this time with his hand at her throat.

"S&D?" she asked weakly.

"Submission and domination."

"Oh Christ, are you into that?"

"I think we both will be when we're done." He grabbed her small waist and flipped her over his shoulder. She shrieked and Alex was happy to hear the tail end turn to laughter. He tickled her ribs until she screamed and begged him to stop.

Alex tossed her onto the bed hard enough that she bounced nearly a foot into the air off the mattress. But instead of getting angry, she flashed a smile. She didn't smile at him, but perhaps for a moment she was reminded of bouncing on the bed when she was a kid. Or perhaps that momentary feeling of flight and weightlessness made her warm over. But she landed in a tangled mess of sheets and legs. Her blonde hair splayed across her face. Marita pushed back her tresses and watched as Alex pulled his dark t-shirt over his head. She got onto her knees in front of him. Her breasts were pushed high up with the corset. Alex cupped one of them. He squeezed it. Marita moaned dramatically.

The slap was not hard, but it surprised Marita enough to make her fall back on the bed.

"Jesus Christ! What was that for!"

"No faking."

"What?"

Alex grabbed her legs and dragged her across the slick sheets towards him.

"No faking it, or I'm done."

Marita blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"Fine."

Alex lifted her legs over shoulders, just as he had done in his office a few days ago. Marita closed her eyes and spread her legs further apart. She held her breath. When nothing came, she exhaled and opened one eye. The slap on her rear made her entire body shake, then quiver. She sputtered and tried to struggle away, but Alex gripped her legs like a vice. When she calmed, he struck her soft ass again with a smack that lingered against her pussy. Marita let out a short burst of air from between her pursed lips.

"You like that?"

Marita didn't answer. He repeated the slap, but this time rubbed his hand all over her ass. He finished the caress with a little squeeze of her pussy. She gasped again.

"Yes."

"Yes, you like that?"

"Yes, do it again," she whispered. Alex obliged. He pressed the tip of his engorged cock against the bed. He kicked off his shoes and undid his belt. His jeans slid to the floor after he unzipped.

Marita lifted her head off the bed to look at his lean body.

"Calvin Klein?"

"Just for that, you're really getting it tonight," Alex said as he leapt on her, grinding his cock through his black jockeys against her pussy. Marita giggled like a sixteen-year-old. He hesitated for a second. She stopped squirming and opened her blue eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments too long. Each had to look away with a smile. Marita covered her mouth with her hand and tried not too look at Alex. He began the more traditional route of sex with gentle kisses against Marita's exposed neck.

A few hours later, they were still at it. Alex had already come once, but was up for round two. He had lost track of Marita's orgasms. There was no need to fake them. Her shudders and tense muscles echoed the waves of pleasure her body felt again and again. Alex sucked on the smooth skin of her shoulder and neck. Already the area was mottled with marks and bites.

"You asshole, stop that. Someone's going to see them on Monday."

She tried to smack his head, but he just sucked harder until she screamed with frustration and amusement.

"Dumb ass," she gasped. Already the rising stakes of another orgasm were making her lose breath again. Alex thrust harder. Like a maniac, he humped her. He loved watching her come; how she bit her lower lip and squeezed her legs around him tighter. It was too much. They came together with a few more spastic thrusts from Alex's pelvis. He felt himself shout something, to god perhaps, but he wasn't sure what he said.

Marita wouldn't let him hold her afterwards.

"I thought girls liked to cuddle afterwards," Alex teased.

She rolled away so her back was too him. Alex shrugged and collapsed on the bed.

He woke up to find Marita, clothed in a terry-cloth bath-robe, shaking his shoulder with violence.

"You can't spend the night here."

"Ok," he said, but rolled over and tried to fall asleep again. Sex took it out of him.

"Get up, Alex."

"Christ." He rolled out of bed. As he stood up, he stopped to glare down at her. She looked pissed. "No gratitude?"

"No. Now get going. I need to get some sleep."

"Fine." Alex got dressed.

For a moment, Marita hesitated before walking him to the door. She opened it and leaned against wood. She seemed eager to shut the door behind him. Alex stroked her cheek with the back of one finger, but she jerked her head away.

"This is just sex, Alex."

He felt his temper rise; the sort of temper that had driven him to violence in the past. It was the temper he used to drive himself to the berserk state necessary for professional murder. But instead of hurting her, he just grabbed her chin roughly and kissed her with all the passion and anger that temper gave him. At first she resisted, but his other hand held her close. After a moment, his anger cooled and he left with a kiss that barely touched her lips. She held onto that kiss as hard as she could and stumbled towards him in the process. But he was already walking down the hall by the time she regained her balance. She shut the door only when the elevator bell dinged.

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Friday night at 11:00 became their normal night. They never left her apartment and they never went to his. And they never ever did anything besides fuck like horny teenagers. Alex mentioned this to her once as they rested between sessions in bed.

"Well, I just turned 20, so I practically am a teenager, Alex."

"Still…"

"My assignment isn't to talk with you Alex."

"So you do this just for the Consortium."

"Yes."

"That's kind of sick."

"No more than being on the receiving end."

"So you don't enjoy this at all."

"No."

"Then let's just stop," Alex said in his most flippant tone as he swung his legs out of bed.

"No!" Marita yelled as she grabbed his arm. He paused with one foot on the thick carpet. She wrapped herself around his body from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder.

"What worries you more, the Consortium or where you're going to get your next orgasm?"

"Does it matter?" she asked against his shoulder. She kissed his skin. Alex reached around and dragged her onto his lap.

"Yeah, it does."

"It doesn't matter. We don't love each other, this is just sex."

"So I hear every week. Me thinks she protests too much."

Marita struggled to get out of his lap, but Alex's gripped her harder.

"Just tell me you enjoy our little fucks and I'll be happy."

Marita sighed.

"I like the fucks, so what."

"That's all I wanted to hear," Alex said with a laugh that wasn't harsh. He kissed her forehead and tossed her back into bed before he got dressed. After that conversation, Marita told him to start coming earlier in the evening. He must have replaced the earlier date. But as always, any sort of progress with Marita was one step forward and two steps back.

The following Friday, she surprised him. She welcomed him wearing a shiny, plastic pair of paints and a black bra that barely covered her tits. Alex had difficulty keeping his eyes off her. He was hard almost immediately. She looked very kinky.

But what surprised him even more was the mirror, the razor blade, and the white powder in the bag on her kitchen table.

"What's this?" Alex asked with less authority and enthusiasm in his voice than he would have liked. It didn't help that every time she moved he could see the perfect mold of her ass in the shiny pants.

"I thought it would be fun," Marita said as she kneeled on a chair. She took up the razor blade and carefully tapped out a tiny pile of powder onto the mirror. She chopped at it with the blade using slow, careful movements. "Have you ever done blow?"

"No, I haven't." He said it with such honest simplicity that even Marita had to look up at him with some small admiration. Perhaps she didn't like fakers either.

"Try it, you'll like it."

"Marita, what's the deal here."

"There's no deal. Here, just try a line." She handed him a twenty dollar bill.

"What, not a hundred?"

"That's just the movies." Marita grabbed the bill away and rolled it up tight for him. "Like this," she said as she snorted the line. She looked pained for a moment, then relaxed. Alex watched her, then grabbed the rolled bill. He snorted a line and nearly choked, but managed to keep from coughing it all out. They did lines all night between their fucks. Alex cut a hole in the crotch of her pants with scissors so he could fuck her in them.

But he didn't like the way she could ignore him even while his cock was pushed all the way inside of her. It was like she was in a different place. She snorted nearly twice as much coke as he did. Every inhalation was like another orgasm, an electric buzz, but he too felt distant and apart. He left that night feeling unsatisfied and had to jerk off when he got home.

The following Friday was another cocaine night. Alex felt himself withdraw in disgust. But he couldn't help himself. She was far more addicting. Her skin, her expressions of pleasure and amusement, the way she moved with him during a fuck, it was all too unbearable to consider leaving.

But Alex wanted more.

It was Friday night as usual. In bed, Marita produced the dreaded bag of cocaine. Alex shrank from the extended gift dangling from between her manicured fingers.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just want to fuck first this time."

"Ok."

But she turned to the bedside table and began the slow process of grinding the coke into a fluffier powder to snort.

"Stop that," Alex said. He grabbed her hand holding the razor blade. Marita looked astonished and somewhat crazed with the blade held so close between their faces.

"Just a minute," she said and tried to pull away.

"No, I don't want you to do that tonight."

"Well, I can do what I want."

Alex ground his teeth without realizing it. Her expression faltered. She ducked her head as if she expected him to hit her. His grip on her wrist tightened until she dropped the blade onto the bed covers. Alex pushed her back into the pillows.

"I don't fucking want to do this anymore!" He knocked the cocaine bag off the table. The tiny mirror cracked underneath his fist. Blood smeared the metallic surface. "I want you here, with me right now," Alex said turning to Marita. She cowered, holding a pillow closer to her thin body.

"Do you get it!" Alex continued. He trapped her in a cage between his arms. Marita didn't look up at him.

"I don't have to do this."

"Then why do you? Why do you bother me like this? You're distracting me from doing everything I need to do."

"I don't know."

"Do you do it for those men? Those old men, in their expensive suits and leather chairs. Is that why you do this?"

"No!"

"Then just fuck off, Marita."

She burst into tears. Alex looked down at her, completely perplexed. He had never been close enough to any woman to see her cry before. She sobbed into the pillow and didn't bother to wipe away her tears. Her nose ran into a sticky mess. She looked so small in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Alex's chest constricted into an ugly knot.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again and again as he kissed her face. She lay like an unfeeling doll, without even blinking when he touched her. When Alex wrapped his arms around her, she twisted around and cried into his chest until she shook with dry sobs.

They spooned when she finally calmed. Alex rested his lips unmoving against the base of her neck. Marita hiccupped every few seconds, which made her laugh in a stifled manner. Alex felt her hand search between her legs. She found his cock, always stiff in her presence, and directed the pulsing member between her legs. He pushed gently as she guided him inside. At an aching slow place, he rocked against her. Marita lay limp, but she panted in response. Her wet eyes and nose made her whimpers sound stuffy.

Pleasure blossomed in Alex's loins, so he rocked harder and harder. He felt the semen shoot inside Marita and it felt good and right.

Her own orgasm was a soft affair, but it made her gasp the words:

"I love you."

Alex pretended not to hear her, though it made his stomach flip. He smiled against her shoulder. Marita covered her face with her hands.

"Go away."

Alex didn't respond. He held her tighter.

"I said, go away."

"Marita, it's ok…"

"No, it's not ok! It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"Look it's fine, you didn't mean it."

"Just shut up and leave me alone."

Marita stopped talking after that. No matter what he said, she wouldn't respond. He grew resentful and stormed out of bed. When he was fully dressed, he paused in the doorway of her bedroom. Still she remained lifeless on her side in the bed. She looked very alone, as if Alex weren't even there in the room with her.

"Sometimes it can't be helped. You start just fucking someone and you end up liking them despite yourself."

"I wasn't supposed to ever like you. I was just supposed to do my job."

"And some job that was. Whoring yourself out to keep a bunch of old men happy."

Marita sat up and threw a pillow at Alex. He smacked it to the floor.

"Don't call me a whore."

"You are a whore. But I love you anyway."

"Jesus Christ, that's not any sort of compliment."

"I love you because I can't help it. I like being with you. I want to be with you more. And I want to do more than just fuck you. And I never want to see the coke again. You're distracting me from everything I'm supposed to be doing, all the vaccine work I want to do, but I don't care anymore! For now at least, I'm stuck with you."

"How romantic."

"And you're stuck with me."

"We'll see Alex. I can beat this."

"Not if you don't want to."

With that, Alex left Marita holding her knees to her chest. He walked home to his apartment that night and didn't sleep. He would have to see her at work in the morning. He didn't know what she would do now, if she would ever want to see him again. He suspected she would try and drop him cold turkey, but he knew she would fail. She could no more leave him now than he could leave her. One too many orgasms and they were stuck in love.

8


End file.
